


i remember everything

by thisainthannah



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Blink-182 - Freeform, Central Park, DNF, Dating, Death, Fluff, GEORGE IN A DRESS, Gream - Freeform, Loss, M/M, New York, No Smut, Pining, Pure angst tbh, Roses, Sad, bookstore, dreamnotfound, mlm, that awko taco moment when you meet a hot guy over the common interest of blink-182, they're gay lol, times square, what shoes george got on lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 10:27:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29417100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisainthannah/pseuds/thisainthannah
Summary: he thought he'd never love. he thought it was hopeless.until he met george.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 13





	i remember everything

**Author's Note:**

> ok this shits gonna have hella triggering content in it so like TW suicide, depression, self harm, eating disorders, death, pills??? shit man idk but be careful please guys i love you.
> 
> ps i posted this on wattpad twice actually but im gonna start crossposting my oneshots, but my wattpad is @thisainthannah if you wanna read my actual multichapter stories :3 i love u!

i'd always told myself that love wasn't real. it was all just a hoax. i'd never find someone.

after watching my parents fight, scream, and shed tears and blood simultaneously, i thought that my point was solid.

but goddamn, was i wrong.

too afraid of being hurt the way my dad was. too afraid of "loving" someone, only to lose them. too afraid to fall in love in the first place.

and that's when he came along.

=============================

i remember the first words he spoke to me.

"i like your shirt. blink-182?"

my favorite band. our favorite band.

"yep! i love them so much."

he'd warmly smiled at me as we went our "separate" ways at the party. i didn't think much of our encounter- two slightly tipsy dudes, chatting about music by the single-person bathroom at a shitty house party in new york. nothing special.

or, nothing special until i found out what the hell i was getting myself into.

=============================

i remember the first time he touched me.

"oh shit, sorry, i didn't mean to do that," he'd muttered, only reddening my face. i didn't know what the fuck was wrong with me- a stranger i'd spoken to once before just made my face red.

i didn't drink any more. i wanted to remember him. maybe find him again someday.

"it's alright, haha," i'd responded. he smiled. his smile was so nice, so friendly. so familiar.

"do you need a ride home? you look a little... a little, fuck i'll just say it, you look fucking twisted." he chuckled on that last little bit.

"yeah, that might be good. i don't wanna get hurt," i told him. a total lie- i was hardly drunk at all. i must have just been tired as fuck that night if i looked that bad.

"alright. whenever you're ready." i smile at him this time.

i hadn't yet noticed his beautiful features. brown eyes like pools of honey. perfect chocolate hair. pearly white teeth that went oh-so perfectly with his pretty little smile.

before we knew it, we were both tired of being at this shitty party, and decided to get the hell out of there. he led me to his car and i blindly hopped into the passenger's seat.

don't worry, it's not like he was gonna fucking kidnap me or anything.

the only thing stolen was my heart.

=============================

i remember the first time i saw him while sober, away from that damned party.

i'd seen him a few days later at the local barnes & noble by my apartment.

"hey, you!" i called, and he giggled. i realized that i hadn't caught his name yet.

"hi there stranger!" he responded. nameless, admirable stranger. "clay, right?"

how the hell did he know my name?

"i honestly don't know your name. probably was too drunk last time." he laughed a little more.

"no sweat. it's george. nice to meet you."

he jokingly shook my hand, and i cherished that two second moment of his hand inside of mine.

"wanna go get a coffee or something?" i asked him, and he seemed taken aback by my offer.

"sure! i think i have some cash on me, actually."

we finished up our shopping and strolled on over to the cc's coffee, adjacent to the book shop.

"what are you gonna get?" he asks me.

"probably a caramel macchiato. and you?"

"french vanilla, perhaps. i haven't had it in a while."

"okay. drink's on me." i had just gotten paid that past friday.

"noo, i won't let you!" he objected, putting a hand on my shoulder. i could feel my face heating up. touch-starvation? crush? gay panic? who the fuck knows anymore?

"yes, yes you will. i'm paying, whether you like it or not, georgie." he giggled at the nickname. god, he was a giggly bastard. always so happy.

always is definitely an overstatement.

i ended up winning our battle, paying for both a caramel macchiato and a french vanilla coffee, despite his efforts.

"order for clay!" called the barista. she'd subtly flirted with me at the counter, but i paid no mind. i didn't give a damn about girls like her, especially after i'd met the hell of a man that was george davidson.

i saw she'd slipped her number onto my cup, and i immediately threw it into the trash, earning a sad glance from her. i didn't give a fuck. never did.

we enjoyed our coffee, and talked about everything- music, books, work, pets, family, you name it. we even ended up exchanging our phone numbers.

i noticed that he'd drawn a little heart beside his name.

=============================

i remember the first time he'd visited my apartment.

"wow, you clean up nice!" he'd teased.

"i just vacuumed, dipshit," i joked back. we'd texted and called a lot, but we didn't have time to actually spend time together due to our jobs. this particular saturday had been the only available day in two weeks.

but i'm forever grateful for those two weeks, because all of those phone calls and texts had brought us so close in such a short amount of time. i was so anxious to spend one-on-one time with him again, but it went so smoothly. he'd even hugged me goodbye.

a friendly hug, of course.

our time we spent together that day was uneventful, but it was so nice. we cooked some shitty food (and ended up getting chinese takeout instead.)

he found himself admiring my shelves upon shelves of books. he was a very smart man. he'd always thought so deeply of everything, truly imagining every aspect of a situation or thought before he'd taken it into action. painted it, written it down, anything. he was so fucking talented. a natural star.

but stars do combust, and that's how black holes are formed.

black holes that pull you into a never-ending spiral, not knowing what's even on the other side. not knowing if there even is another side, or if you're stuck in this dark, cold labyrinth for the rest of your waking moments.

when george left my apartment that night, around midnight, i'd been left with more than loneliness. i'd been left with memories. and a certainty- certain that i was definitely in love with this intelligent, artsy, giggly little creation that was called george davidson.

=============================

i remember the first time i'd acted on my feelings- and how he acted on his.

"clay! i'm so happy you were able to come!" george had smiled warmly. it was his birthday, and he invited me over to hang out instead of having a party. by this point, i was in no way uncomfortable or awkward around him, but he still brought life to the butterflies that once peacefully slept in my stomach. he brought unrest to my once steady heartbeat.

"happy birthday, georgie," i responded. he blushed a little. "i got you a present."

he'd mentioned before that he was colorblind, and so i used my "education" savings to buy him those expensive-ass colorblind glasses. so fucking worth it.

when he opened that gift, he started sobbing. happy tears, of course. i wrapped my arms around him as he told me how much he loved my gift. i told him, "anything for you, honey," and he looked shocked. i didn't realize what i said.

"honey? that's cute. i like that."

too embarrassed to admit what i'd said, i changed the subject.

"that's not all. go put something nice on, georgie."

=============================

i remember our first "date."

"is this good?" he'd asked. i told him he looked great.

i basically dragged him by the wrist, and took him out of the door and into the taxi i'd called prior to arriving at his apartment complex. i'd also made sure he had his new glasses with him.

"where are we going?" george asked, and i told him to be quiet and trust me. and he did.

our drive to our destination was filled with us shittily singing along to his favorite songs, and pissing the driver off so badly. it was hilarious. it felt like i was a dumbass teenager again.

after about an hour and a half of driving, we'd made it to our destination.

central park, new york.

"holy shit, we're in central park," george muttered.

"wow, i didn't know!" i sarcastically muttered, and he punched my arm.

"bitch!" he laughed.

i told george to put his glasses on, and he did. as we advanced through the park, his face lit up with two things: fascination and emotion. the sun was setting, appearing in a vibrant burst of pinks and oranges, colors he'd not been able to see before.

"god, this is so beautiful," he whispered.

we were the only two people in the world.

i grabbed his hand.

he took mine.

it was incredible.

=============================

i remember when i confessed to him.

"clay, what's wrong?" he'd asked. i'd been feeling weird ever since that night at central park. my feelings only grew, and he crowded around my heart like invasive vines spreading across the sides of an old building.

"it's nothing, georgie. go back to reading."

"ya sure? you seem kinda... distant."

"you wanna know the truth?" i snapped.

"actually, yeah, that would be pretty nice.

"it's you. you didn't do anything wrong, so don't worry, but it's you. i'm so in love, it genuinely hurts. all i want is you, okay? i don't expect you to feel the same, but i'm just gonna let you know that all i want is you. you're all i've ever wanted."

i wanted to remove my vocal cords as soon as i'd said it.

"you feel that way too. clay?"

=============================

i remember the first time we kissed.

we'd been sort of "together" for a few weeks before it had happened. we were out on the town for a night out, and having a lot of fun- dressed up nicely, george in the cutest little white shirt and pink skirt. he was so perfect, so dainty.

"you look incredible," i gushed. he did. pink was his color.

not blue.

deoxygenated blue.

george twirled in his pink skirt, like a little girl in disneyland in a princess dress. i grabbed his hand and twirled him like we were out dancing in a ritzy ballroom in a castle, and not on the streets of new york.

we planned to walk around, maybe shop a little. i just wanted an excuse to spoil my sweet boy.

"kate spade?" i asked him, and he nodded. he'd always been one to love all things designer- he and i both were pretty wealthy, and we were both drowning in luxury. designer clothes, thousand-dollar bags, shoes that cost more than an exceptionally nice dinner for two.

i bought him this pretty pink purse, and he stared at it in awe, and planted a kiss on my cheek.

he'd never done that before.

"where to next, honey?" i asked him.

"i wanna buy something for you! where do you wanna go?"

we went back and forth for a little bit before i got sick of arguing, and decided to shut him up in the easiest way possible.

i leaned in, and kissed him. kissed those beautiful rosy lips that i'd desired for so long.

so yeah, that's how i spent my first real kiss. in the middle of times square, with a gorgeous angel in a pink skirt and designer purse.

and i wouldn't have it any other way.

=============================

i remember the first time he met my family.

"moooom! there's someone i want you to meet," i called from the door of my mother's lovely apartment over in jersey.

"alright, sweetie, i'll be there in a second," she responded. i heard the sound of her pumps clobbering down the stairs, and the sight of her warm smile.

"oh, who's this?"

"this is george. my boyfriend."

she ran in and hugged george immediately.

"so you're the one he's been so in love with?" she told him.

"i hope so," george responded.

of course he was the one i'd been so in love with.

the rest of that night went well- we spent our time in my mother's house, eating her delicious homemade cooking and watching christmas movies under the warmth of a hand-knitted blanket, encapsulating his hand in mine whenever i had the chance. it was early december by now, so i had the excuse of being cold. but i didn't need one.

=============================

i remember our first argument.

"who's amy stanford?" george said, kind of accusingly, like he caught me cheating, which he thought he had.

"my friend from high school, why?"

"she surely is texting you a lot, just saying."

"yeah, we're talking about high school reunion shit."

"whatever." he looked pissed off, for whatever reason.

"you better not think i'm seeing her. i'm not."

"i mean, i'm not gonna deny my thoughts. she literally texts you every hour of the day. she might as well propose at this point."

"george, don't be like that. do you really think that lowly of me? to think i'd cheat on you with some bleach-blonde bitch?"

"i mean, i don't fucking know!" his voice broke, and he slowly started to cry.

"baby, don't cry, it's okay. i'll block her if that's what you want. shit, i'd hit her with my car for you."

i pull him into my arms, and he stops crying almost immediately.

"i'm sorry clay."

"it's okay."

=============================

i remember when we went to visit his family in brighton.

he woke me up so fucking early. well, ten in the morning isn't really early, but it is for me.

"get your ass up, you get to meet my family today!"

we'd flown out to brighton a few days before, and spent the first couple just chilling in our fancy hotel. five-star. very, very nice.

after we spent an hour getting ready, we headed off to george's childhood home. it was so strange to finally be seeing the world that he once lived in, and how it was so vastly different from mine. i'd moved to new york from florida once i'd gotten decently wealthy. i hated the south.

george moved to new york for "better opportunities," which basically equated to "more money and more prada stores."

despite his love of fancy things, he was the most selfless person i'd ever met. he never mocked others for being in a worse condition than him, and sprung to help instead. he inspired me to do the same.

"george! you look so good!" cheered his father. "you must be clay," he nodded to me.

"yes sir. nice to meet you!" mr. davidson shook my hand. firm, strong handshake.

"please, call me henry," he responded. and then i was on to meet the mother.

a beautiful woman she was, sharing lots of features with her perfect son.

"oh, hello clay! you can call me sarah," she says, hugging me.

the night went better than i'd have ever expected. i wouldn't have worried for a second if i'd have know that it would go this well.

=============================

i remember the first time i'd opened up to him about the darker side of my past.

a chilly evening in january, a month i'd enjoyed.

i'd searched through some old yearbooks with george at my side, and had accidentally stumbled upon a page with a certain person's photo. the boy who bullied me from the second i met him. the boy who almost became the reason i ended it all. the boy who was the reason i hid blades in the drawers of my nightstand. the boy who sent me to the hospital twice.

"clay? you've been staring at him for a while now," george said, not noticing the tears in my eyes. not until they hit the glossy surface of the yearbook's page.

"baby? what's wrong?" he said, more worried than before.

"h-he was the one that ruined my life."

"how so, clay?"

"bullied me. all throughout high school. caused two suicide attempts and a whole lot of little thin lines on my arms."

"oh, i'm so sorry, baby. come here." george pulled me straight into his arms, and we cried together as he kissed my tears away.

"he's gone now, it's alright."

i mean, this bastard of a man had died due to a drug overdose a few years before. did too much at a party and ended up dying outside.

"th-thank you, honey," i spoke softy into george's neck.

=============================

i remember the moment that i realized.

george was working late that night, so i was home alone. putting pictures of us up on my walls.

it's so strange without him here. so quiet. i'm so used to his dumbass making jokes on the couch and watching shitty tv shows on my netflix account.

i was just reflecting on my past, which i didn't normally do, but it had been different. i thought about how i still had some of those depressive behaviors before i met george. they stopped as soon as i saw him at that party.

from the moment we connected, i knew what i had to do. i threw all of those blades out of the window. i threw away all of my old high school clothes that reminded me of the trauma, the pain. i threw out anything that could hurt me, physically or emotionally.

i realized that if it weren't for meeting george, i'd probably still have bloody wrists and a fucked up showering/sleeping schedule. i'd probably still eat half a meal every day.

he saved me.

i wish i could have saved him.

=============================

i remember our first valentine's day.

i wanted to take him out to the nicest place possible. i wanted to treat him.

and that i did.

he'd spent the night at my house on the thirteenth of february, so he was there for the morning of the fourteenth.

"happy valentine's day, honey," i quietly cooed as he slept. he didn't move.

after a few hours, george finally woke up, forgetting that he spent the night at my house.

"when did i get here?" he asked, to nobody in particular. "yesterday," i told him, and he rolled his eyes.

"well, no shit." i loved it when he was sassy like that. it was cute.

we spent the morning and afternoon of our first valentine's day together watching cheesy hallmark movies and eating some delicious takeout. after hours of this, the evening rolled around, and it was time to get ready for our actual date. i was sporting a nice suit.

george took my breath away in the beautiful gown he'd picked. oh my god. i thought i'd seen an angel on earth in front of me. like i'd said, pink was very much his color.

"god, you look so fucking beautiful," i told him.

"you look amazing as well."

we'd been together for about three months, but it felt like it had been three decades.

a horn sounded from outside, signifying that our taxi had arrived. i let my honey in first, and myself after.

i still couldn't get over how fucking breathtaking he looked.

our drive was quiet until we arrived to our spot. central park.

we planned to have a picnic here.

"oh shit, clay, i think we forgot the fucking food," george says, and we both immediately break out in laughter.

"it's fine. i don't care as long as i'm with you."

"but aren't you hungry?"

i was actually on the verge of relapsing.

"nah, i could eat though." i lied to him.

george knew about the cutting and the bullying, but he didn't know about the eating disorder. the worst part. it destroyed me.

before it, i was strong. i was able to do anything. but after it, i was feeble. i was hardly able to keep a glass of water down without feeling the guilt, the weight of it all.

but he saved me. almost.

even though i was sure of george's love, i still had this thought that i wasn't good enough. i hadn't brought it up to him. but i needed to. it was aiding in the relapse of my past eating disorders and other unhealthy behaviors.

"you don't seem so sure," george mumbles.

"what was that?"

"nothing." but it wasn't.

i wasn't gonna let a little unhealthiness ruin our night, so i swallowed my pride (and some water) and told george that we should go walk around the park. he obliged.

i needed to talk to him about my eating habits before it's too late.

"look at the flowers!" george said in awe.

god, my stomach hurts.

"they're gorgeous, aren't they?" i respond to him.

my knees feel weak.

"i like those the best," george says, pointing to some roses. they're pink.

i wish i could be normal for you.

i secretly steal one of those pink roses and stash it in the pocket of my suit. i take another one and put it in his hair.

"cutie," i gush at him.

=============================

i remember when he saw me at my weakest.

i had almost fully relapsed. life was a constant cycle of wake up, take a shower sometimes, lay in bed, skip meals, only eat a few pieces of lettuce, drink some water, throw it up, weigh myself, write it down, exercise, and go to bed. george was extremely worried. i hadn't told him anything. 

it was mid-june, and by now, we'd become as close as possible at that moment. he had a key to my house, and i let him pop in randomly. but one day, this didn't work in my favor.

i had just finished emptying myself of the horrible three leaves of lettuce i'd eaten, and was hardly conscious, lying on my couch. i thought george was working. i thought it was safe.

until my front door unlocks, swinging open.

"baaaaaby, i brought takeout!" he sings from the door.

"aww, you didn't have to," i respond, trying to sound like i didn't just puke my guts out in the bathroom a few minutes ago.

"are you alright, clay? you don't look too good."

i tried to get up and go to him, but weakness got the best of me. the last thing i remember is my body hitting the ground, and the sound of george screaming like i'd just been shot.

"CLAY! OH MY GOD I NEED TO CALL A FUCKING AMBULANCE!" he yelled, and picked up his phone.

i'd passed out, so i didn't hear his call, but i woke up about three hours later in a hospital bed, with george at my side.

"oh my god, you're awake. i was so fucking worried." his face was stained with tears, and his eyes were almost completely bloodshot.

"what happened?" i asked him.

"you just... passed out. you got up off of your couch and fucking dropped to the floor. and then i called an ambulance, and cried over your body while i waited."

oh my god.

"please, clay, tell me. tell me why. i found it all. the notebooks, the scale, everything. i want you to be okay. please."

he found the notebooks? the scale?

"i'm sorry, george. i should have talked to you."

"clay, please. next time, please tell me what's going on. i don't want to have you hurt like this. i don't want to sit next to you on what could have possibly been your death bed and imagine you dying. i don't want to imagine the love of my life withering away right in front of me. please, do it for me, clay."

and i swore to myself that night that i'd never, EVER practice these behaviors again. never. not in a million years.

sure, it was hard, but george helped me overcome it. he saved me.

=============================

i remember when he almost fucking died, and took me down with him.

he was at work.

took his own car today, said he was tired of taxis and subways. i didn't blame him.

i'd been working on an article i was writing when i got an unexpected phone call from george's phone, but the voice on the other end of the line wasn't my honey.

"are you george davidson's boyfriend?" asked an adult female's voice. either he's been caught cheating or something really fucking bad just happened.

"yeah, what's up?" i ask her, trying not to combust.

"we need you at the hospital of new york. and it's vital."

"what happened?" i ask her, pulling on my shoes and heading out of the door.

"there's been a wreck. your partner was a victim, and he's in critical condition."

i dropped my phone. picked it back up and headed straight out to my own car to drive my ass to the hospital.

"i need to see george. george davidson. please. just let me see him," i say to the receptionist, who sends me to his room. i knock lightly on the door before being let in.

i never thought that i'd see my baby like that. battered and bruised in a hospital gown. he hated how the gowns looked- he thought they were ugly.

i just wanted a normal afternoon in july.

luckily, he was slightly awake. i was too afraid to touch him. i didn't want him to hurt.

but he brought his arm down, over the hospital bed's railing, and reached his hand out. i grabbed it.

"it's gonna be okay, honey. don't worry." i tell him.

good thing i was right. he was discharged about three weeks later. i spent my birthday in the hospital with him, but it didn't matter. i'd rather have the love of my life alive.

"welcome back, georgie," i tell him softly as he walks through the doors of my house. no, our house. we'd moved into my apartment back in june after my little relapse incident. it helped.

"i love you, clay."

he hadn't said it outright before.

"i love you too. george, you saved me. you saved my fucking life. i'm forever in your debt."

he embraces me, and we sit on the couch together.

"go get some rest, my love. you need it," i tell him.

=============================

i remember the day it all went wrong.

october sixteenth.

it was four in the morning. i had woken abruptly to find that george wasn't in bed with me like he usually was.

"georgie?" i called. no response. i immediately began to panic.

"GEORGE!" i called again. no response. i got out of bed and began to search the house.

nothing could have prepared me.

there he lied, in the kitchen. his lifeless body on the floor. deoxygenated blue lips. without a heartbeat. his brown eyes dead and cold.

"honey?"

"oh no. oh no no no no no no no no NOOOOOOOO..." and i shouted into the sky.

he was gone. the love of my life was gone.

i shakily called emergency services, who were going to come pick his body up soon.

the love of my life was gone and i didn't get to say goodbye.

emergency services was late.

i planted one last kiss on his dead, cold lips.

my honey was gone. the one true love of my life was fucking gone.

how did it happen? did he faint? heart attack? aneurysm?

i'll never get to hold you again.

i wish this was just a nightmare.

i wish he was holding me right now.

i wish i could have saved him.

goodbye, my love.

i'll see you in some time.

=============================

i remember the funeral.

his beautiful body. caked in makeup and placed in a beautiful glass casket, adorned with flowers. so many flowers.

we didn't have enough time. hell, we got barely a year. we didn't get to get married. we didnt get to travel the world. we didn't get to have kids of our own. we didn't get anything.

my baby didn't get the future he deserved.

he was robbed. his life was taken from his warm, soft hands.

the doctors said he died of a brain aneurysm. i don't know what the hell that is, but i know i hate them now.

the funeral was ethereal. it didn't feel real. i saw my honey one last time, kissed him one last time.

"i love you. i love you so much, honey. i'll never forget you."

and i never did.

=============================

i remember the day i left.

the last memory i have. the day i left.

it was just too much to bear. all of the shit i'd suffered from relapsed. i had no love to save me this time.

i thought of him as i washed the sleeping pills down my throat.

i thought of him as i felt myself hit the floor.

i thought of him as my vision faded to black.

i thought of him as i died alone, with only his memory to keep me comfort.

and i was holding the pink rose i'd given him on our first visit to central park.

as i hit the floor, i uttered one last message. a message to him.

"i'll see you soon, honey."


End file.
